


The Undone and the Divine

by edenbound



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-11-01 21:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: Crowley is all spread out on Aziraphale's bed, and Aziraphale would very much like to take full advantage of that... after they've talked. Enthusiastic consent is sexy!





	The Undone and the Divine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains an asexual Crowley engaging in sexual acts with an experienced, allosexual Aziraphale. There is no angst about their sexualities, or indeed anything else.
> 
> You might read my Crowley as grey ace or demi instead, and that's valid; for some reason, he just _felt_ more like he was ace to me -- I think his motivations here are part curiosity, part wanting to please Aziraphale, and part enjoyment of the physical sensations (without a sex drive or sexual attraction per se). It's hard to show that when the story insisted on being pretty tight to Aziraphale's POV. I'm asexual and I claim this Crowley as mine, anyway (though I'm touch-averse and he is not; whatever!).
> 
> The title is from Florence + The Machine's [Bedroom Hymns](https://genius.com/Florence-the-machine-bedroom-hymns-lyrics).

Crowley is flushed and looks delicious like this, spread across Aziraphale's bed with nothing but his trousers left on his body, clinging low on his hips. Aziraphale had had to work a quick sleight of hand miracle in bearing Crowley down to the bed to clear away the dust and mustiness and a stack or two of books before they got there, but the multi-tasking was decidedly worth the effort. He bites at Crowley's neck, fitting his teeth to just the right spot, and shivers at the abandoned sound Crowley makes as a result. He sits back to admire his handiwork. "You look a little overwhelmed, my dear. Have you never done this before?"

"No. Never wanted to. Aziraphale -- " Crowley's still wearing his sunglasses -- an oversight Aziraphale will have to correct in just a moment, when he's done looking at him -- and so it's hard to read the look on his face, entirely. Embarrassment? Chagrin? Or just naked truth? 

"I have," Aziraphale says, running a hand down Crowley's chest, "but never with anyone so..."

"Demonic?" Crowley offers, with a grin that flashes his teeth and hides none of his tension.

"Dear to me," Aziraphale says, firmly, and kisses Crowley again. He gets the glasses while he's at it, setting them blindly out of the way and then waiting there until Crowley opens his eyes. "There you are," he says, gently, "my dearest."

Crowley swallows hard, and Aziraphale goes ahead and just kisses him again, again, narrowing the world down to this room, to this bed, to the slick sound of mouth against mouth and -- yes --- his fist clenched in Crowley's hair, holding him there though he isn't resisting. He scrapes his teeth over Crowley's lip, gentle, and then bites down a little more sharply, relishing the way Crowley jerks beneath him. He looks entirely dazed when Aziraphale pulls back, his slit pupils dilated, his mouth open and wet.

Still: "How far do you want to go?"

Crowley blinks up at him. "How far...?"

"Well, I know you never wanted to do this before, and it seems _possible_ that you're doing this to please me, so I thought I'd be clear. I want to make love to you and leave you quite incapable of stirring from this bed -- at least without demonic intervention -- for a good few hours afterwards. But if that doesn't align with your interests, we can stop now -- or at any point after now. You just need to say the word, Crowley." It's hard not to keep touching Crowley while he says this, especially because he is well aware of Crowley's arousal. "We never have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm aware that sexual desire can be complicated, and perhaps you don't know what you want -- "

"I do," Crowley interrupts. "I know what I want. I -- normally, I don't, I'm not... I'm not usually interested. But with you, I am. I _am_, in my own way. And part of it is definitely that I want to give you what you want," there's a flush on his cheeks as he says that, this undemonic thing, but he rushes on, "but that's not all. This is -- it feels good, even if it's not something I've always..."

"Alright," Aziraphale says. He tries to say it in the same way as he would have replied to a 'stop', or a 'wait', but he can't help the greedy warmth in his voice. "If that changes..."

"I'll let you know."

He's so dear, Aziraphale thinks, so dear to him, and so beautiful. He kisses him again, running his palm flat down his chest and resting it on his belly a moment. "Ready?"

"_Please_," Crowley breathes, and Aziraphale fumbles with his pants, tugs them only a little down before he wraps his hand around Crowley's cock. Every noise Crowley makes sounds overcome, wondering and grateful and shocked, and Aziraphale wants to drink them down like the finest wine, nibble every bit of Crowley like the best meal he's ever had. He strokes him a couple of times, easy, gentle, and kisses him again.

"What do you want?"

"What you said. You said you'd..."

"Make love to you?" Aziraphale asks, just to be sure. He twists his wrist a little, finds the right spot to rub with his thumb, and Crowley gasps out a blessing, a curse, a desperate susurrus of syllables. He can only nod, but Aziraphale takes that for enthusiastic consent, with the way he's pushing into his hand. "I want you to come like this, first," he tells him, tightening his hand, "and I want to see it."

It hits Crowley in a rush, and Aziraphale is certain that he has never tried this -- certain that this is the first time he's felt the rush of orgasm, the first time he's ever come. He slows his stroking gently, stops before he is too sensitive (there is time enough to experiment with that), and puts his wet hand on Crowley's belly again, warm and grounding, waiting. Feeling the tight muscles of his abdomen, and the way he lets go, relaxing under Aziraphale's hand.

Crowley's eyes open slowly, and they still look dazed. A smile curls the corner of his mouth up. "Is there more?" he asks.

"Greedy serpent," Aziraphale says, delighted and unsurprised. "There's lots more."

Crowley pulls him down, kissing him and taking the lead this time, dizzying and astounding in his turn. "Give me all of it."


End file.
